


Not Again

by momo0231



Series: Florida Ain't To Different From Gravity Falls [4]
Category: Gravity Falls, Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: Claustrophobia, I had a Mood to write about stan's claustrophobia, M/M, Vague, discription of gore, mostly of hands though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momo0231/pseuds/momo0231
Summary: Stan finds himself trapped for talking to much.It makes him more upset then he thought it would make him.





	Not Again

“Sonny? Ricky?” He had been calling out for what felt like _hours_. Hours that he spent locked away for daring to say something and this was his punishment.

The creeping fear and anxiety had started crawling up his spine as soon as they shut the door on him plunging him into darkness. It was fine though, he’s been through worse, there was no fear of losing all the oxygen or that he would dehydrate here and that he was left to die. Someone would come back for him; they were just teaching him a lesson.

He’d just… much rather be out of here as soon as he could.

At some point Stan sat down, the Miami heat starting to get to him and it must be closer to midday now with how hot it was getting. It was stuffy, a little on the suffocating side but it wasn’t too bad. That’s what he kept telling himself as he waited. That’s what he kept telling himself as he pounded on the door trying to get someone _anyone_ to hear him.

What was a couple of hours started to turn into a few hours and Stan started to see the light that was coming from the crack start to dim.

Someone had to have noticed he was missing by now, right? Sonny had to have noticed, Tubbs might have said something by now. Or they were working late and Sonny just assumed he went home and he wasn’t going to get out of here.

What if he was never going to get out of here?

No, he _was_ going to get out. They were going to notice something was wrong and he was going to get out.

A few more hours and the heat was starting to get suffocating. There was sweat dripping down from his brow and onto the concrete floor under him.

It was too _hot_ , it was too much. Stan took off his shirt, helping for just a few minutes before the heat suffocated him and made it hard to breathe.

Maybe he really wasn’t going to make it out of here.

Something in Stan snapped, in a way that felt reminiscent. A way he thought he’d never have to feel again.

His voice already felt ragged from yelling before but Stan was _screaming_. He was up on his feet (when did that happen?) banging at the door trying to get out. He needed to get out he was going to die here and _no one cared_.

No one cared about him. No one ever cared about him. All he had was himself and he was _failing_ himself by depending on people to help him. He had killed himself here.

Stan felt himself sinking to the floor again after what felt like minutes of trying anything, his hands raw and his fingernails felt like they were broken and bleeding from scratching the door.

This was it. He was really going to die here.

Stan felt himself hiccup and he didn’t even register the tears running down his face he was just… Gone.

He was dying, he was going to _die_ and he didn’t even get the change to tell his mom he loved him or to see Sonny one last time. He didn’t ever make it up to Ford, showed that he was worth it to be forgiven. He was going to die in some closet in Miami and he only had himself to blame.

He saw the light under the door turn darker before he fell asleep, huddled in the corner of the closet he was locked in but he was jolted awake by the scrape of wood and then light shining in his face.

Were they back to finish the job? Did they want _more_ from him?

Hands reached for his arms and Stan jerked away and brought a hand up to his face, whether to attack whoever it was or protect his face he wasn’t sure himself, a little disoriented by everything. Whoever it was made a soft shushing noise but didn’t try to grab him again.

“Stan? Hey, it’s me. It’s Sonny.”

Stan didn’t register it at first, what that _meant_ , the light hard to see under right now and he was just tired. Slowly, however, he started to drop his arms and the hands that were there before were there again, even more gentle this time and unsure.

Fingers ran over his knuckles and his fingernails and he distantly thought his fingernails were longer than that before and there was soft talking he didn’t quite make out and he just wanted to get out of here and go to sleep.

“Just give us a few minutes, we’ll get you home and in bed.”

That would be nice. Slowly Stan’s vision adjusted to who was helping him and he wanted to collapse with how _relieved_ he was to see them. It really _was_ Sonny and he could see Ricky behind him, talking to people he couldn’t see just yet but he was sure doing something important.

His hands tightened on Sonny’s sleeve even though Sonny was looking at the door that had trapped Stan. His hands stung at the movement but he didn’t care. Sonny was here, he actually came to help him.

“Of course I was gonna come.” He said softly, looking back at him and moving closer to wrap more of himself around Stan. “Now hows about we get ya outta here. Might be nice to get some fresh air.”

Stan let himself be pulled up so that he was standing again and taken out of the closet and it felt like Sonny had just saved him from a burning building. Sonny reached behind him to grab his shirt that he had momentarily forgotten that he had taken off and took it from him to put back on.

He wasn’t going to die, because he was here alive and a little worse for wear but _alive_.

“Just cause you’re alive doesn’t mean you’re not gonna get checked out by an ambulance. Your hands _are_ a little worse for wear you’re right.”

Stan could deal with that. He looked at his hands, finally, in the sun and winced a little by how run down and dried blood that were at the nails. A couple of nails seemed to be missing completely.

Huh.

He waited patiently for an ambulance that looked him over, besides his hands which they pulled out some splinters and wrapped up they seemed concerned over his shoulder which they poked and prodded before just saying to keep an eye on it.

Sonny was next to him the entire time, which he appreciated. Still it felt all a little too quick, like he had just been pulled out of the closet but he was surprised that it was only midday by now. It felt like the whole day had passed.

He curled his fingers into his palm, not really mindful of the bandages until Sonny put a hand on his. “Careful, you don’t want to ruin the hard work they did.”

But he couldn’t _feel_ anything.

“Must smart a little bit doesn’t it?”

No. He’s just… Tired.

“You had a long day, it’s okay to be tired.”

Hm.

“Stan? Are you okay?”

He… Didn’t know. He didn’t feel all the way here, there was still some part of him that didn’t get picked up but he’s here right? He isn’t going to wake up and he’s still going to be in there.

“This is real. You’re okay; you’re just a little banged up even if you can’t feel it. You’re really okay.”

Why can’t he feel anything then?

“I don’t know, but just cause you can’t doesn’t mean you should do something that might hurt you more.”

Stan leaned against Sonny, putting his head on his shoulder. He just wanted to go home.

“We can do that. Let’s go home, okay?”

They stayed like that for a few more minutes before they hopped off the back of the ambulance. Before he got into Sonny’s car, he looked back into the building and a part of him noticed the splinters all over the ground near the closet he had been in and wondered just how _that_ happened before he got in.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of Stan not realizing that he's claustrophobic because he just actively avoids any small places if he can. Also Sonny showed up because I love these boys to much and I still haven't finished their meeting fic because of various school reasons but one day i promise. Once I can memorize all of my trilobite parts maybe I will finish it.
> 
> This was really just me playing around with everything you know?
> 
> Also Stan calls Rico 'Ricky' because he's to hecked up from *his* Rico to really want to call him that.


End file.
